


Bullseye

by Pr1nceMax



Series: Trolls/Broppy [2]
Category: Trolls (2016), Trolls: the beat goes on
Genre: F/M, The beat goes on spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 03:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13425891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pr1nceMax/pseuds/Pr1nceMax
Summary: After Fun-Branch ruins his family heirloom; it's guaranteed a place in the trash.Unless Queen Poppy happens to pick it up.





	Bullseye

Branch takes a deep breath and looks at the pieces of the family heirloom he had broken. So much for treasuring it, huh? He picks up the sponge and continues to clean the wall.

“Oh Branch!” Poppy calls, walking in and instantly jumping. “Wow, that’s a lot of Butt-prints.”

“Don’t.” He sighs, holding up a hand. “Just don’t. Fun-Branch went a bit overboard and now everything’s a mess. The Snack Pack is scared of me.” He drops the sponge, “and just-” His head lolls back as he groans. Poppy places a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Branch, hey.” She moves her other hand under his chin and smiles. “It’s just a little mess. A little elbow grease will clean all this up.” The pink troll grins, “And all you have to do is show them Branch-Branch, not Fun-Branch. I promise They’ll love you as much as--” A dark red hue spreads across her glitter cheeks, and Branch can’t help but notice how much like a strawberry she looks. “As much as Biggie loves Mr. Dinkles.” She nods, deciding that was her best line of defense here. “Now let’s get to cleaning!” She chimes, taking a few steps away from him.

“Oh, Poppy-” he grabs her wrist. “No, you don’t have to do anything. Trust me, it’s like a whole lotta cuddle pups broke in and their mother followed.” Branch shivers slightly. Poppy looks at him, a bit disappointed that she can’t help more. He looks at her, and her puppy dog eyes before sighing. “Fine, okay. You can stay in here and clean.” He glanced behind him, “I’ll go clean the kitchen--” A finger flies to her lips. “Don’t ask.”

Poppy chuckles as he leaves, looking at the mess of the room. “Oh Branch,” she mutters, shaking her head. “What did you get yourself into?” Her hand lands on a broom as she spots the broken dart board. She smiles as she begins to sweep it up, her foot touching one of the little spotlights. “Huh?” she stops and looks down at it--weird. It was unlike Branch to draw attention to things, much less put them on display. 

Looking up at the spot where the bullseye was, and then to either side. Her hand slowly raises and touches the edge of one of the photographs. Within both frames were photos of Trolls that she had never seen, not once. “Who...?” Her voice trails as she looks at each photo. Wait--there  _ was  _ something familiar about these trolls.

Branch’s eyes, his nose, his pointy ears, and teeth--The coloring. Everything screamed Branch except it wasn’t him. 

It clicked.

Poppy bends down and picks up a piece of the dartboard, realizing that the ceramic material was more of a symbolic thing that to be used. She bites her lip and quickly sweeps it all up; shoving the pieces into her hair. She nods to herself before picking up a sponge and going right back to where Branch had left off.

* * *

 

Branch sighs as he looks at the empty spot on his wall; head leaning against the rim of his coffee cup.

“Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.” He mutters, his eyes half-lidded. “Stupid Branch. Stupid Fun-Branch. You couldn’t have said no. Why can’t you ever say no?” Branch’s body is pulled down by the immense amount of weight it seems to carry as he sits up. “Now you’ve gone and lost the only thing your damn parents ever even bothered-”

“Branch!” Poppy calls out; as she stands on the elevator. “You down here, Ya Crazy nuts?” 

“Yeah, Pops.” He nods. “I’m down here.” He sighs and cracks the joints in his neck. “What’s up?” Blue eyes focus on the Pink blur that comes skipping towards him.

“Here!” She hands him a box with a pale blue wrapping. “Open it later! We’re gonna go get our squish ball on!” She bounces on her heels, grinning brightly.

“Okay, okay.” Branch snickers, setting down the box and following her out of the bunker.

 

* * *

 

Covered in glitter, and out of breath, Branch makes his way back to his bunker--promising Poppy a picnic and agreeing to team lineups for next Sunday. He chuckles as the elevator slowly descends.

“I’m glad they liked me.” He mutters, glancing around. His eyes springing open as he slams a hand to his forehead. “Gah, I’m talking to myself again.” Branch sighs as he steps off the platform, and over to his table, picking his small remote up and placing it back on his shelf.

“Nice to see you too, Gary.” He nods, the blue wrapping paper catching his eye. His fingers slide off the cold metal and instantly onto the box that Poppy had given him. Carefully, Branch lifts it and sets it on his lap as he sits down. He carefully lifts it to his ear; listening intently to make sure that nothing sounded like it was going to pop out. 

 

Very well.

 

Peeling the tape off the paper, he sticks them together before removing the paper altogether. Lifting up the lid with shaking hands, he is actually taken aback by the lack of glitter, music, or just general poppiness. Removing the lid fully now, Branch lifts a few layers of tissue paper.

Tears welled, and Branch bit a knuckle to keep himself from sobbing right then and there.

Hot glue was coated each crack, and little flecks of glitter seemed to make the bullseye shimmer. It wasn’t perfect; though it was so obvious Poppy tried. Suddenly, why she seemed to be sleeping on her feet made sense. 

Branch walks over and sets the bullseye back on the wall, stepping back and smiling proudly at it.

“There’s still one thing missing.” The once gray troll smiles as he walks over to his shelf, pushing Gary out of the way. His fingers wrap around a frame, and his free hand finds a hammer and a nail.

 

“There.” He nods, setting down the hammer. Looking up at his handiwork; the photos of his parents on one side of the bullseye. The other rests a photo of him and Poppy. He smiles at the photo and places a finger to his lips before gently touching photo-Poppy’s. 

“Hey, Branch!” Poppy calls down, “You coming or what, Doomsday-Psycho?”

Glancing up at the elevator shaft, he answers back quickly. Blue eyes trail from the photo-poppy to the bullseye. Branch’s hand forms a gun, and he steadily aims at the bullseye:

_ “May it forever aim true.” _


End file.
